Movie Night, aka The Setup
by exiled mind
Summary: Natasha is up to something (because when isn't she?). Clint just hadn't anticipated that she'd rope everyone into her scheme. Phil, of course, always knows.


Pairings: Clint/Coulson  
Rating: Teen  
Prompt: Clint/Coulson finally getting together, everybody matchmaking, Natasha taking matters into her own hands

* * *

 **Movie Night, aka The Setup**

* * *

Avengers Movie Night (and Tony Stark had the nerve to call him a pedant when he'd suggested changing the name to Media Night when they were binge-watching television shows, the dick) was already underway when Clint arrived, a common occurrence. Finding one of the prime seats available (not-so-coincidentally, it turned out, the seat next to Coulson) should have been Clint's first clue.

That particular piece of furniture was deemed The Most Comfortable Loveseat Recliner Ever, offering the ability to recline nearly a full 180 degrees, a warming function, and a center console complete with multiple cup holders and a tray for snacks. The rest of the media room seating was also Stark-level great, but those two seats were highly prized among the avengers and avengers-adjacent. The ability to find the perfect resting position and soothe away the aches of battle during Movie Night was not a benefit usually ignored.

Well, they'd had a relatively quiet and injury-free few weeks, so maybe that explained it. Glancing around in the dim lighting, Clint noted that Bucky, Darcy, and Jane were all absent, which could also explain the lack of competition – although Bucky far preferred to have the island of the overstuffed chair and ottoman to himself, both Jane and Darcy frequently claimed the loveseat for themselves (and the tray was perfect for Jane to set up her notebooks and a tablet to work on while she "watched" a movie).

Clint grabbed a beer and huge bag of chips from the kitchenette before settling into his throne, raising an eyebrow at Coulson as he settled in. Coulson's only response was to raise his eyes skywards before nodding his head once to the side, indicating either Natasha or Sam, the only people sitting in that direction.

Whatever. These people were frequently weirdoes. That's why he'd managed to fit in for this long.

::

He didn't even connect Natasha softly clearing her throat during the end credits of the third episode (they were finally watching the second season of an unlikely-vigilante-turned-superhero series about a mouthy guy with a questionable costume) with Steve standing up and stretching (and dammit, whenever Clint did that these days he heard a veritable _symphony_ of joints popping and cracking).

"I'm gonna call it a night, gotta be up early to train tomorrow." At this is leveled a gaze a Sam.

"Aww, man, just because you and Bucky want to torture yourselves doesn't mean I need to suffer alongside you!" Sam's petulant voice spoke volumes as to the teasing he likely endured from the super soldier duo during their training runs.

"Gotta keep in shape, old man, or you'll never keep up."

"Old man? You ass. For that I'm bringing the wings."

"And we will _still_ beat you." At Sam's outraged splutter, Steve grinned, offered an incredibly sarcastic faux-salute, and departed.

"Stark!" Sam said, imploringly. "Tell me you can juice up the wings by tomorrow morning so I can show the senior citizens a thing or two?"

"But we're right in the middle- Ouch! Pepper! That's my hair!"

"Sorry, Tony," Pepper's voice revealed only mild regret, though her fingers continued to pet through his hair.

Tony paused for a moment. "Right, well, I can probably figure something out, Birdbrain 2.0, but we'll have to get started now. Humiliation of the elderly isn't a good enough reason to lose too much of my beauty sleep over." Stark hauled himself off the couch he'd been sprawled across with Pepper.

Watching both Sam and Tony leave the room, Pepper sighed, picked up her phone, and stood up as well. "I think I will go be on standby as the voice of reason. Enjoy the rest of the show, lady and gentlemen."

"What is _wrong_ with these people?" Clint wondered. "Things are _just_ getting good!"

From the corner of his eye he could see Phil smile around the water bottle he was just raising to his mouth. "I've learned not to question the sanity of those I spend most of my time with."

"Har har."

::

After the fourth episode, Bruce levered himself out of the armchair he'd been resting in and ran a hand through his hair. "I think I've had enough cliffhanger episodes for one evening. I'm going to head to my lab and review a few experiments I've been working on."

They all wished him a good night and no one tried to convince him to stay – they had all learned that the more obviously manipulative a show's ending was the more easily frustrated and on-edge Bruce grew.

They had not yet tried to introduce the Hulk to Team Movie Night.

::

Looking back on it, it's almost embarrassing that it took until ten minutes into the next episode, when Thor's phone lit up the darkened room with a picture of Jane Foster's face and a twangy ringtone version of the _Star Trek_ theme, that Clint began to suspect that he'd been set up. Without further ado, Thor excused himself, barely making it out of the room before booming out, "My precious Jane, how I have missed your voice!"

"Isn't Jane in New York this week? Like, right downstairs in the labs?" Clint wondered, sparing a glance at Natasha and not missing the soft huff from the seat next to him. He glanced at Coulson in time to catch the man's slightly pained expression before an explosion drew his attention back to the screen.

"Shhh! Don't interrupt the show," Natasha hissed, not even bothering to look over at him.

::

Near the end of the episode, Natasha's phone, politely set to vibrate, buzzed softly. Clint saw her glance at it and frown, though she left it on the arm of her chair.

Two minutes later, it buzzed again. This time, she picked it up after the glance, her mouth set in a more pronounced frown as she typed swiftly back.

"Everything okay?" Clint asked, softly.

"Fine," she responded. "An irritation, not an emergency."

When five more minutes netted 4 additional messages, she sighed and stood up. "Continue without me, I've got to deal with this."

"Want us to pause for an intermission?" Clint asked.

"No, enjoy yourselves. This may take a while." And with that, Natasha, too, was gone.

::

When the credits of the episode began scrolling up the screen, Coulson paused the show.

"So." He said, leaning his chin on his fist and looking at Clint.

"So." Clint replied, grinning.

"You've figured out that we've been played, right?"

"Yeah, I clued in around Thor."

"Took you that long?"

"I'm having an off night."

"Clearly. I'd barely sat down before I began to suspect something."

"Well, in Natasha's defense, I don't think she was particularly _trying_ to be subtle."

"Obviously."

"And it _did_ take you long enough make a move."

"I seem to remember _you_ making the move, Barton."

"Debatable. So, Natasha. She's…. What? Just messing with us?"

"Maybe. Or maybe she is hinting that _everyone_ knows by now-"

"Everyone knew before we knew!"

"Before we _acknowledged_ , perhaps. But I, for one, have known for years."

"…Yeah. Me too." And don't think that Clint wasn't regretting all those lost opportunities.

Coulson cleared his throat with a harsh sound. "Yes, well. As I was saying, perhaps she was hinting, in the least subtle manner possible, that everyone is in support of us. They weren't exactly clever with their excuses, for the most part."

"…Or she's messing with us."

"Not mutually exclusive."

"Point."

"Shall we continue?"

"If we move to the couch we could totally neck during the slow parts."

Coulson leveled Clint with a Look. "And give up the good seats? I think not."

Clint had to admit that he was disappointed. Since when did he come second to-

"Barton?" Coulson interrupted. "I have always admired your flexibility."

His flexibility? What did that have to do with- "Oh."

"Indeed."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"Now you're getting it."


End file.
